


Parting Clouds

by Tulikettu



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Frank is a good man, M/M, Matt loses his hearing, Pre-Slash, Season 2 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 23:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10774665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tulikettu/pseuds/Tulikettu
Summary: Matt can't hear anything.Frank can't leave him.Neither of them are particularly good at judging the appropriate time to fall for someone.





	Parting Clouds

**Author's Note:**

> I know this trope has been played out a thousand times, but sometimes when I'm at work I just need something to do and this is what tapped itself out. 
> 
> I don't like the ending, but I hate everything I do.

Frank hasn’t exactly promised himself he’s not going to do that usual vigilante crap. He just thinks there are other people with less shit to do who get more of a kick out of it than he does. Or would. But he isn’t a heartless man. He isn’t a dick, really. Only to people who deserve it. 

 

So when he hears screaming, genuinely terrified screaming (and worse, he thinks, it’s a man’s voice), he has to redirect himself. Detour. He has to. Because no one should be that terrified. 

 

He climbs down the fire escape that takes him to the open window from which the sound emits. Penthouse flat. Scruffy looking, almost bare. Frank would call that homey, but he’s not here to give his opinion on interior decorating. 

 

The man he finds is shirtless, backed up against a wall, staring around the room as though surrounded by invisible demons. He doesn’t stop screaming even when Frank is standing before him, and his voice is beginning to get raw. Frank waves his hand in front of the man’s face, but nothing happens. No reaction. Either he can’t see Frank, or he can’t see anything. 

 

One more glance around the room tells Frank it’s the latter. This guy is blind.

 

“Hey!” Frank says loudly. There’s no reaction, just the desperate, frightened noise which is  beginning to send chills through his body. He’s seen men like this with shell shock. And that’s all he has to go on. 

 

He takes the other man’s hands in his own, not surprised when the screaming stops and the struggling starts. His breathing is harsh, he’s almost on the point of hyperventilating, his unseeing eyes swerving wildly around the room. 

 

“Foggy? Foggy? No. Who are you? Who are you?”

 

“Shh,” Frank coos, but again it seems as though he can’t be heard. Shell shock. He presses the other man’s hand against his chest, breathing slowly in and out, trying to force this guy to copy him. In and out. In and out. It works. Everything is calming down. 

 

His other hand gently guides the man’s fingers to his throat. If he can’t be heard, maybe the vibrations of his voice will help. Even if the words don’t make sense, his presence might be reassuring. 

 

“I’m here,” he says slowly, listening to the erratic breathing calming down all the more. “My name is Frank. You’re safe. Do you need a doctor? Do you need the hospital?”

 

To his surprise, the other man shakes his head. “No. No hospital.”

 

Frank pulls back slightly. He’s still holding one hand to his chest, against his heart, but the other is no longer against his throat. “You can hear me now?”

 

Apparently not. There’s a moment of panic, the man whimpers, his freed fingers insistently pressing back against Frank’s throat. What?

 

“My name’s Matt-” he says quietly, after a few more breaths. “My hearing- I can’t hear anything. Ringing. Please don’t go.”

 

Frank has a lot of other things he could be doing right now. He has people he needs to find. But God, he can’t leave Matt here alone. He’s naked aside from some sweatpants, he’s blind. He can’t hear. Frank would have to be a real asshole to leave him.

 

“I ain’t going nowhere,” he says, speaking slowly. “Don’t worry. I ain’t going nowhere.”

 

***

 

Matt doesn’t even feel the vibrations of someone climbing in through his window. He doesn’t feel anything, doesn’t smell anything until his hands are being restrained. At first he thinks it’s Foggy, he hopes it’s Foggy, come to check on him. But it’s not. The fingers around his wrists are too big, too rough, the smell is all wrong. All wrong but familiar at the same time. 

 

He sucks in a breath when his hand is pressed against a strong chest, a powerful heartbeat pounding beneath his fingertips. The chest is moving in and out in slow, measured movements, and he knows that he’s being instructed to follow. Whoever this is is trying to calm him down, trying to reassure him. Matt complies, copying the rhythm, breathing in the scent of his new companion. Leather and coffee and a deep, masculine scent. He recognises it. Why does he recognise it?

 

Matt is shocked again when he feels his fingers pressed against warm, stubbled skin. Vibrations begin to buzz against his fingertips. The other man is speaking to him. He focusses, focuses in on the motions, the delicate, slight changes. 

 

_ My name is Frank _ . 

 

_ You’re safe. _

 

He can’t go to a hospital. He probably should, but he can’t. There’s too much to explain. Like how he got shot in the head in the first place. Where the other bruises have come from. Frank will be able to see them; them, the scars from old battles, evidence of Matt’s secret life. Why is he so worried about what this stranger will think? If anything he should just be self conscious of how undressed he is. 

 

“No hospital.”

 

Immediately, Matt wishes he hadn’t spoken, because Frank clearly thinks his hearing has returned and he pulls back. Matt’s fingers lose contact with his throat, and, though he can’t say why, it makes him panic. 

 

He reaches out, knowing Frank is still very close because his palm remains against his chest. But his fingers- he needs to touch again- And Frank seems obliging. He let’s Matt touch, allows him to be soothed by the contact even if he isn’t speaking. 

 

This man is his only help. This man, who smells of the city, of warmth, now that Matt thinks about it. And familiar, still. His heartbeat, his unfaltering, strong heartbeat- 

 

He’s looking after Matt. He’s promised to not go anywhere. 

 

***

 

“Do you want to put some clothes on?” Frank says slowly, touching the back of Matt’s hand, holding his fingers gently to his throat. “You want me to take you to your room?”

 

Matt shakes his head. “No, no no, no-” he stammers. 

 

“Okay. Okay, no problem,” Frank replies. How long are they going to have to stay like this? What if Matt never regains his hearing? He’s going to have to convince him to see a doctor. But Matt doesn’t seem to be in the position to negotiate right now. 

 

Actually, negotiating doesn’t seem to be on the cards at all, he realises, when a second later the other man is rigid, his breathing stops, his grip on Frank increases. 

 

“Matt? Matt? Hey-?” Frank starts, but Matt doesn’t react as before. He curls in on himself like a man in pain, moving closer, pushing himself against Frank and crawling into his lap so that Frank is cradling him in his arms like a scared child. Luckily, Frank also knows how to deal with scared children. 

 

“I got you. I got you-” he repeats slowly, bringing Matt’s hand carefully to his throat again, trying not to startle him. “I got you,” he speaks gently against the trembling fingers. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m here.” Frank doesn’t know if he can keep that promise, Matt isn’t his child, he doesn’t know how to make this better for him. But he’ll try. As hard as he can. 

 

Matt whimpers, his hand pressing solidly against Frank’s chest. He’s very strong. Frank has his arms around the Matt’s naked back, he can feel the muscles moving, quivering with the tension in the other man’s body. He’s just going to hold him for now, wait it out, he decides. Matt is breathing heavily, so Frank begins to breath slower, trying again to guide him, to calm him. It seems to work as before, even if they’re now pressed incredibly close. Their gentle breaths meet in the narrow space between their mouths, and Matt’s eyes slip closed. Frank has the inexplicable urge to kiss him, but it’s just a passing phase, brought on by the intimacy of how they’re now sitting, the embrace they’ve ended up in. Obviously. Frank hasn’t wanted to kiss anyone since Maria. He hasn’t been in the position to, but he’s not pulled someone into his arms, or had someone leaning against his body this way since-

 

The hand against his neck begins to stroke gently, seeking his pulse point as though the thump of his heart isn’t enough. But Matt’s palm is also firm on his chest, and Frank is wondering if he’s managing to keep his heartbeat under control, or if it’s giving away that momentary lapse. 

 

“I’m fine,” Matt whispers. “I’m sorry. I- I’m sorry-” he apologises. He tips his head slightly from side to side, frowning. “Ringing. There’s ringing in my ears.”

 

“Can you hear me?” Frank asks, speaking slowly. 

 

Matt’s head tips again, like a puppy hearing a new noise, Frank thinks. It’s endearing. It shouldn’t be. Of course it shouldn’t be. But Matt hasn’t moved away, he’s still in his lap. And when he tips his head, their noses are mere centimetres from each other. 

 

“A little, maybe. It hurt. It just hurt-”

 

“I’m here,” Frank says again.

 

Matt opens his eyes. They’re so green Frank needs to catch his breath for a second. 

 

“I know,” Matt replies quietly. “I know exactly where you are.”

 

The urge to kiss him is strong again, but they’re strangers, and Matt is vulnerable. He can’t-

 

A smile tugs on Matt’s lips. Frank’s fingers twitch beneath his shoulder blades. Matt is too unclothed. Or he is too clothed.

 

***

 

The ringing in his ears had been crippling. So painful that Matt had thought his head was going to split open. But Frank is there, holding him tighter until the pain subsides and the ringing softens. Matt’s fingers sought the other man for comfort, his pulse, his voice, his breathing. He isn’t concerned that he’s in Frank’s lap, he isn’t concerned that he’s wearing only his sweat pants. He isn’t even concerned that he’s automatically seeking Frank for comfort. He hasn’t been pushed away, so he’s going to take advantage of the care he’s being offered by the man who crawled in through his window. 

 

_ I’m here _ .

 

Frank is so sincere. Matt can work out the low rumble of sound, but it does nothing to build a picture for him. He still has to rely on touch and smell, but luckily there’s plenty of that to go around. The hitch in Frank’s breathing is a surprise, and not an altogether terrible one. He can feel the uneven pattern in the other man’s pulse, knows from the warmth of Frank’s breath that their lips are close- 

 

It’s been a long time since Matt has considered kissing another man. He knows that Frank wants to, but he hasn’t yet. Even in the stillness when their mouths are so close they may as well be touching, Frank doesn’t move. Which means he’s a good man. He’s not taking advantage. And Matt can feel that he’s strong, he can feel that Frank is almost solid muscle. If he’d wanted to, he could have tried. 

 

Matt’s fingers are stroking the pulse point in Frank’s throat, mapping the skin from his collarbone to his jaw, the onset of facial hair, the sharpness of his bone structure. He smells amazing. Clean. Slightly, ever so slightly, turned on. No cologne, which Matt is so thankful for. Nothing overwhelming, just plain soap, plain shampoo, a scentless antiperspirant. Which means his natural scent ebbs through, wraps around Matt, holds him the way Frank’s arms are. 

 

The sound of the traffic outside is like distant waves. But his hearing is coming back. Not enough for him to get a good image of Frank, yet, though Matt has pieced together a reasonable idea of the other man. 

 

Frank’s hand holds Matt’s still against his throat. “How did you lose your hearing?”

 

“I hurt my head. Last night. I suppose this is a side effect.” He should have rested better. “It’s coming back slowly. I don’t need a hospital,” Matt adds, before Frank can suggest it once. He tips his head slightly again. The sound of the city is growing louder. He’ll need to tell Frank when he can hear properly. They’ll need to part, then. There’d be no reason for them to remain like this. 

 

Until then, Matt draws in a breath and slides his fingers up from Frank’s throat, along his jawline, up to his chin and then his lips. Frank’s heart is pounding rapidly under the palm of his other hand, but he isn’t pulling back. Matt feels the shape of his lips, heat suddenly filling his veins. This is new. All of this seems so very new. He finds Frank’s nose, frowning at the broken bridge, then follows around to one eyebrow, to temple, another frown slipping over his face when he feels a band aid leading to Frank’s cheekbone. Frank doesn’t wince away, though. He stays still and lets Matt touch, his only movements are little shivers, and Matt can feel them go all the way down his body. He traces the other man’s jawline, finds his ear, strokes his lobe between thumb and forefinger, and laughs at the jolt, the little hum in reaction, that Frank gives him in return. 

 

“Ear lobes sensitive?”

 

“No,” Frank replies. Matt hears the denial as though he is speaking from the end of a tunnel. He feels the vibration of the one word in his strong chest, and the little curve in his jaw that says Frank is smiling. 

 

Matt grins, dragging his nails lightly over the stubble on Frank’s cheek, absolutely not imagining putting his lips there, moving them back to Frank’s mouth. Fingertips once again trace the shape, the smooth lines, adore the slight plumpness of them. Just slight. Frank has a very masculine face. 

 

He places the pad of his thumb against the other man’s lower lip, and he swallows. Frank’s mouth moves slightly, and Matt’s breathing hitches almost painfully when he feels the warm tip of the other man’s tongue against his skin. Just for a second. But it’s enough to make Matt move, bury the concern of any consequences, and place both hands on Frank’s cheeks, holding him, leaning into him. Frank’s slide down to his hips, and it’s comfortable and comforting. 

 

Matt doesn’t know Frank at all, but fuck, he’s taken a lot more risks in his life than kissing a stranger. 

 

Sounds suddenly rush in on him and Matt gasps, an open mouthed moan pressing against the edge of Frank’s lips. 

 

“Matt?”

 

He can hear the other man’s voice, the gentle, deep roll of it, and the world flares into life around him again. 

 

“Say something else-” Matt demands, speaking against Frank’s skin. His stubble does feel good against his lips. Matt knew it would. “Talk to me.” He can hear himself speaking, and that is enough confirmation, but he wants to hear more of Frank’s voice. 

 

“Are you actually gonna kiss me or you just gonna leave me hangin’?” he asks gently, not too loud, as though he’s realised what’s happened. 

 

Matt smirks, stroking his fingers through the short, cropped hair of Frank’s head. 

 

“I thought you were just here out of the goodness of your heart, now you want payment for your services?” he teases. 

 

Frank huffs a little noise and then Matt feels himself being lifted, displaced from Frank’s lap. 

 

“You’re feeling okay?” Frank asks, his voice illuminating his body as though it has been bathed in sunlight, the shape of the face that Matt’s fingers just traced, his chest, his arms, every part of him. “Is it back to normal?”

 

Matt nods, tipping his head a few times again; everything is reaching him loud and clear, he can see everything around him again.

 

“I’m gonna go,” Frank says, his voice gentle. “It’s best I go.”

 

“What?” Matt kneels up, pauses to get his equilibrium back in check, then reaches for Frank, winding his fingers in his the other man’s shirt. “But-” He wants to kiss this man. He wants to kiss him, he wants to feel his heartbeat racing against his own. And it’s been so long since he wanted someone this way-

 

“It’s best I go,” Frank repeats. His hands cup Matt’s face. “It really is. You don’t wanna be involved in this mess.”

 

“You’d be surprised,” Matt replies. “The kind of messes I find myself in..”

 

“Maybe I’ll see you around, Matt.”

 

“We have unfinished business, Frank-”

 

He’s gone before Matt can stop him. The emptiness that Frank leaves in his wake seems enormous. Matt feels as though he’s been swallowed by it. His ears strain to keep hold of the thump of Frank’s heart as he moves further away, but eventually it fades, replaced by cars and sirens and voices.

 

***

 

Frank pants, looking around for the interruption, his gun raised. Something, someone, is here again. That man, that devil, Frank despises him. He’s going to be a real problem. But Frank can’t kill him, the guy is doing good in his own way. Even if he is really fucking annoying. 

 

His boots crunch on the gravel of the rooftop, eyes scanning the area around him. He doesn’t  _ want _ to kill him-

 

The softest disturbance behind him makes him turn, his gun immediately trained on the body clad in red leather. The man doesn’t move for a moment, his gaze fixed on Frank. Then his head tips slightly. Like a puppy hearing a new noise.

 

Frank lowers his gun immediately. 

  
  
  


Matt has to be sure, he has to be sure of that heartbeat, breathing in deeply as he tries to distinguish the clean smells beneath leather and gunpowder. That thud. Thud. Thud. Matt tips his head just slightly, the pulse quickens, the gun is lowered. 

 

“Frank.” The man who shot him. The man who has been ripping the city apart, the man who is mercilessly, systematically taking out twenty men a night with a brutality that horrifies Matt. The man who climbed through his window and held him and calmed him, gentle and patient. He’s not a monster. He can’t be a monster. There must be more to this-

 

“Matt.”

 

Matt pulls off his helmet for confirmation. 

 

“You and I have some unfinished business,” he whispers, taking a few steps forward, then a few more when Frank doesn’t raise his gun again. The space between them is closing, Frank’s heart is beating faster. Matt doesn’t stop until they’re almost chest to chest, loosening his grip on his helmet so that it falls to the ground by their feet. 

 

Without instruction, Frank stoops to put his gun on the ground too, standing straight again, his whole attention focused on Matt. 

 

“And then we’re gonna need to talk,” Matt adds, wrapping his fingers into the front of Frank’s shirt again, pulling him forward, their lips finally meeting. Frank’s body comes alive under his touch, warmth pouring off of him, sweet, desperate need in the way he kisses back. He isn’t a monster. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on Discord : Legohearts #0322


End file.
